


The Room

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fallen Castiel, Fluff and Angst, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3592059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been 24 hours.</p><p>Was it healthy for angels to sit that long without moving?</p><p>Er...ex-angels?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been 24 hours.

Was it healthy for angels to sit that long without moving?

Er…ex-angels, Dean corrected himself, wincing as he poked his head into his bedroom where Cas was still as a statue in a chair, his eyes vacant. As far as Dean could tell, the former angel hadn’t even blinked since he had last checked on him, and that was _hours_  ago. Dean wondered if he should be worried.

“Hey Cas…” he began, stepping awkwardly into the room. “You still alive?”

There was no reaction from Cas, not even a sign that he acknowledged Dean’s presence.

Dean shifted on his feet, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Cas, are you…okay, man?”

Cas still didn’t respond, and Dean let his eyes roam to the ceiling as he thought about what he should do. Should he wait for Cas to snap himself out of it? But then what if he never did?

Dean headed to the door, then looked back, conflicted. If he left now, it would only be to distract himself, and he had already completed his personal checklist for the day – fix himself a damn good breakfast, shower in their glorious bathroom, throw on some old records, down a few glasses of scotch or whiskey or whatever booze was lying around. He had to admit, the Men of Letters were some classy sons of bitches. If Dean had more time off, he would spend it all here, just relaxing and pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.

But, inevitably, he couldn’t fully relax with Sammy and now Cas under their roof. Sam was in his room trying to learn more about the trials he would soon face, and Cas was…where Dean had left him after he had guided the traumatized ex-angel into his own bedroom for some shut-eye while he grabbed the couch. He hadn’t been able to sleep, though. Maybe it was their time in Purgatory, or maybe it was Cas’s recent kidnapping and torture by that psycho bitch Naomi, but every time Dean started to drift off to sleep, a strange urge kicked him awake until he wandered back to his bedroom to make sure Cas was still there. 

Even now, caught between two opposing actions, Dean was relieved that at least Cas was there. Or…he hoped he was.

“Cas, hey, listen man…I’m sorry about your Grace. That’s…that’s gotta suck.” He cringed at how lame it sounded as he hovered near the door. “I really am sorry. And…if you, well, I mean, if you ever want to… _talk_ I guess, me and Sammy, we’re both here and—”

“I don’t need you to comfort me, Dean,” came Cas’s gravelly voice.

Dean sucked in a breath. “Oh. Well, you haven’t moved in a whole day. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Dean half-rolled his eyes as he sauntered back into the room and sat on the bed so he was directly facing the ex-angel. “Cas, look, you need to pull yourself out this. I mean, so you lost your angel mojo. So what? Now you’re one of us. A hunter. You can still fight. And hell, we could use you, now that Sammy’s got all this new crap to deal with.”

“ _Am_  I a hunter, Dean?” Cas finally pulled himself out of his trance and leveled his gaze with Dean’s. “I have no power anymore. I’m useless.”

Dean made a face. “Then what does that make Sam and me? Chopped liver?”

Cas frowned. “But you’re not…chopped liver.”

Dean let out an exasperated sigh. “What I  _mean_  is that we don’t have powers, but we can still fight. Which means you can, too. Don’t tell me they fried your memories of fighting after they zapped you out of Heaven.”

Cas stared at the floor. “No, but…I can no longer communicate with angels. I have to resort to human transportation to get anywhere. I can’t exorcise demons, and I can’t…” he trailed off.

“Can’t what?”

Cas sighed and raised his head. “I can’t save anyone, not even myself. What hope do I have of redemption?”

“Who says you need redemption?”

“Dean, I need to redeem myself for what I’ve done. All the lives I’ve taken. All the pain and grief I’ve caused—”

“That’s bull, Cas.”

Cas looked up, startled.

“It’s bull,” Dean repeated. “So you made some mistakes. That doesn’t mean you’ve got to save the world. All you gotta do is the best you can. Every day.”

“Dean…”

“No, I don’t wanna hear it!” Dean said, throwing up his hands as he got to his feet. “You don’t think I’ve made mistakes? You don’t think I don’t have regrets, that I wish things hadn’t gone differently? Hell, of course I do! But all we can do is fight one day at a time to make things better. And if we die fighting, we die fighting. But who knows? Maybe this whole thing’ll soon be over. Sammy will complete the trials, we’ll close up that damn door for sure and then…do whatever we want!”

Cas peered at Dean, his head cocked. “But you don’t believe that, do you? Not all of it. Not the end. You don’t have hope that it’ll end well.”

Dean swallowed hard, avoiding Cas’s penetrating gaze. “Yeah, so what if I don’t?”

Cas sighed, and his whole body seemed to deflate. “You still don’t think you deserve it. After all you’ve done to try to help people.”

“Help people?” Dean scoffed. “You  _know_  what I did in Hell. You know how many people I couldn’t save.”

“But you  _try_ , and that makes all the difference.”

“So what does that mean for you? You try to help people all the time – and you actually  _heal_  people!”

Cas refused to speak after that, and Dean paced furiously before forcing himself to calm down.

“Look…just stick around and do the best you can. And maybe we’ll both make it through. I’d rather have you here without your angel voodoo than have you in…pieces scattered around Heaven.”

Cas shuddered. Dean noticed and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

“Cas, it’s gonna be okay, alright?”

“I don’t know, Dean.”

There was a long silence before Dean patted Cas’s knee and stood, heading for the door.

“Hey, how bout I make you one of my famous sandwiches? Good food always cheers me up.”

“Don’t you mean food in general?”

Dean froze and looked over his shoulder. “Did you just make a joke? Or did you insult my cooking? Because either way…” He smirked and let out a dry chuckle. Shaking his head, Dean started to leave.

“Dean,” Cas called after him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll figure it out, Cas. We always do.”


	2. Chapter 2

It started with a case in Idaho where, luckily, only the baddies ended up dead.

Those kinds of cases always felt good, but when Dean and Sam stumbled through the door of the Men of Letters bunker, they were too exhausted to do anything but grunt goodnight and head to their respective bedrooms.

Dean could barely remember the details of the case. Those witches – it was always goddamn witches! – had wrecked his body, flinging him through windows. At one, he was nearly impaled on a lawn ornament. The jagged cut that marked his close call was still bleeding despite the bandages, but Dean didn’t care as he sank, face-first, onto his bed. He moaned and closed his eyes.

It was times like these when his exhaustion-addled brain wondered how he had ever lived before the blessing of Memoryfoam. He needed to find Memoryfoam’s inventor and build him or her a freaking monument – no, a shrine – to honor them. Snorting into his comforter at the image, Dean dragged himself up so his legs weren’t dangling off the end. He nestled his face into the pillow and let out a contented sigh. He could marry this bed and never be a happier man. Hell, there were stranger things out in the world than a man marrying a bed.

Inhaling another breath, Dean felt sleep tugging at him and willingly gave in.

He awoke sometime later feeling a presence beside him. Alarms blared in his mind, and Dean scrambled for the knife he usually stowed under his pillow – but it wasn’t there. Stupid, stupid, he had thought he was safe here! Had he learned nothing in Purgatory? Now some goddamn weak monster was going to finish him and wouldn’t they all be laughing at how easy it was to kill a Winchester? They just had to wait until he slept and—

Dean panted on his hands and knees, staring bleary-eyed at Cas, lit by the lamp on the nightstand. The ex-angel was in his customary trench coat, reclined against pillows he had propped up on the bed beside Dean. He clutched a book in his hands.

“ _What the hell_ , Cas?” Dean demanded. “Don’t just creep up on a guy like that!”

Cas frowned. “I’ve been sitting here for hours. I just turned on the light to read. I apologize if that disturbed you.”

“Yes it disturbed me! This is  _my_  room! I was expecting peace and quiet and now you’re sitting here and you’re…you’re reading? Since when do you read? And shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“I’m still adjusting to being…less of an angel. I’m not certain when I will require sleep.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He started to lower himself, but when he looked at his covers, he saw that some of his blood had soaked through and stained them.

“Oh, damnit.” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wearily rubbing his face with his hands and wincing as he clutched his wound. He felt Cas’s gaze and turned to meet the miserable stare of the former angel, whose eyes were pained. Dean glanced down at himself and then away, embarrassed. “What? I’ve had worse.”

“I can’t heal you,” Cas said, his voice heavy.

“So? It’s not like my body can’t handle this crap. It’s probably better I’m not instantly fixed. Probably messes up your metabolism or something. I dunno, ask Sam.” There was a long silence, and Dean’s eyes wandered to the book in Cas’s lap. “Where’d you get that?”

“I found it.” Cas held it up so Dean could read the cover.

“ _Of Mice and Men_ , huh? Sounds stupid. Is it any good?”

“I haven’t started it yet.”

“Oh. Sorry. And sorry for…freaking out. I guess Purgatory’s still messing with me.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Dean opened his mouth and then shut it again. “No, you can stay, just…warn me next time. I didn’t even know you were in here!”

“Where else would I be?”

Dean gave Cas a weird look, but the former angel was staring at the floor, probably again realizing how limited his world had become now that he had lost his Grace.

“It’s not that bad here, is it?” Dean continued. “I mean, not  _here_ here with all the crap we deal with, but the bunker’s nice, right? And, hey, sorry we left you, man. You didn’t…well…seem up for the case, I guess.”

“I understand. I’ve been struggling, and I’m sorry.”

“Whoa, whoa, don’t apologize,” Dean said, holding up his hands. “We get it. Shit happens. We all need time to deal with it. Nothing new. As long as you’re not moping again like a statue. That freaked me out.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Cas said, and when he sighed, he sank deeper into misery. “And now I interrupted your sleep.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he stretched out a hand to clap Cas’s shoulder. “Cas, seriously dude, you gotta stop. It’s not your fault I’m still twitchy from Purgatory.”

“But…isn’t it because I let in the Leviathans that—”

“Okay, okay, let’s stop with the blame game, alright? Let’s just…start over. Forget everything that happened.”

“I can’t forget, Dean.” There was a haunted quality to Cas’s voice.

Dean inhaled a breath. “I know how  _that_  is. But hey, maybe mojo-less you can get drunk now without having to drown a whole store. That’s how normal people deal. It’s how I deal.”

“Does it work?”

Dean shrugged. “For a little while, I guess. Wanna test it out? I found some brandy from the 50’s in one of the cabinets. Should be sweet.”

Cas roughly imitated Dean’s shrug. “I suppose we can try. If you think it’ll help.”

“Famous last words,” Dean muttered to himself as he draped an arm over Cas’s shoulders and led the ex-angel out of the room. 


	3. Chapter 3

“What the hell is going on?” Sam demanded, striding into the living room with a knife in his hands. His flannel shirt was wrinkled and partially unbuttoned, his hair was tousled, and his voice was still gruff from sleep. “What are you, _are you drinking_? It’s 4:30 in the morning!”

Dean, lounging on the couch, just giggled as he watched his little brother throw a fit.

“I heard glass breaking and you’re just…wait, is Cas drunk? Like, _human_  drunk?” Sam interrupted himself, noticing, along with the broken glass on the floor, that the former angel was also lying there, his head making jerky, circular motions.

“Am I spinning?” Cas asked. “Or is the world spinning?”

“Both,” Dean said, amused.

“How can I stop it?”

“Just stop moving your head.”

“But  _I’m_  not moving it…” Cas said, making an effort to sit up. He managed to curve up into a hunch, though he swayed precariously. “How peculiar. My head weighs so much… This didn’t happen when I drank before.” He tilted sharply to the right and fell onto his side, hitting his head on the floor. Dean burst out laughing. Cas glared at him. “It’s not funny, Dean! My head weighs too much!”

At Cas’s panicked expression, Dean sputtered into his drink. “This was so worth it!” He grinned at Sam, who just shook his head.

“I’m not cleaning up after you. And I’m not taking care of him if he gets a hangover.” Sam gestured to the ex-angel, who looked like his head was glued to the floor and he was trying to pry it up.

“Dean, am I stuck? The floor smells terrible. It hasn’t been cleaned in ages. How can I get my head off the ground?”

Sam’s lips quirked into a quick grin before he shook his head and stalked back to his bedroom. Dean laughed, calling after him.

“Party pooper!”

“Who’s a party pooper? And what’s a party pooper?” Cas asked from the floor, looking upside-down and between his legs at Dean.

“I’ll tell you later,” Dean said, taking another sip of his drink. He angled his head to try to figure out how Cas had contorted his body. “What’re you doing down there? Yoga?”

“No, my head’s stuck. And…oh. Oh.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? What’s wrong?”

“Oh. My stomach. I don’t think it likes brandy.”

Dean stood up, abruptly indignant. “Cas, don’t you dare puke on me! Or on the floor! Or anywhere but the John, you hear?” He rolled his eyes as he observed Cas’s twisted form. “For Pete’s…just lie down, don’t go all gymnastics! That’ll just make it worse!”

Cas, diligently following Dean’s instructions, was able to untangle himself until he was on his back.

“I feel strange…like everything’s moving but I’m not.”

“As long as you don’t have to puke,” Dean said, giving Cas a warning look before relaxing back onto the couch, closing his eyes.

“I don’t understand how this works. How can brandy make the world move so oddly?” Cas continued. “It’s only a liquid. How is it so powerful? I drank a whole store before, this is…I just…ugh…”

Dean’s eyes snapped open. “What? Cas?  _CAS?_  NO! NOT HERE!” Jumping to his feet and slamming down his drink on the end table, Dean hauled the ex-angel off the ground and half-dragged him to the bathroom. He shoved Cas’s face into the toilet. “There, you puke there.”

And Cas obliged. For several long minutes. Dean scrounged around for a cloth and handed it to Cas when he finished. Leaning back against the counter, Dean watched the former angel wipe his face.

“That didn’t make me feel better,” Cas said with a grimace.

“No? Well…sorry about that, man. Maybe brandy’s not your thing.”

“How do you manage…to not get sick?”

“Practice. Years and years of practice. Thank god alcoholism’s not a sin. Or is it?”

Cas groaned and clutched his abdomen, leaning his head against the wall. 

“You’ll have time to practice,” Dean continued.

Cas started to shake his head then stopped to moan. “No, this won’t work. I don’t like this.”

“It’s not for everyone. But at least you gave brandy your best shot.”

It was another hour before Cas completely emptied his stomach, and Dean stayed with him the entire time to make sure the guy’s first drunken experience didn’t kill him. He brought Cas a glass of seltzer to calm his stomach, and then some crushed up pieces of a mint candy he had gotten from a restaurant on the road. Cas accepted the candy and chewed it gratefully, his eyes drooping closed as he sagged against the wall.

“This tastes better…”

“Than puke? Yeah, I should hope so.” Dean eyed his handiwork. “Alright, now don’t sleep here. Come on, the bed’s more comfortable. Let’s get you up.” He helped Cas lurch to his feet, and together they staggered to Dean’s bedroom, where he casually dumped Cas on the bed. The ex-angel looked much like Dean had earlier, with his head buried in the covers and his feet dangling off the end.

“Aw crap,” Dean muttered to himself when he saw that he had forgotten to change the stained blankets. “Oh well.” He hesitated now that Cas had passed out, wondering how to move him so he wasn’t hanging off the edge. Dean knew from experience that his feet would start to tingle and lose sensation, and he wasn’t sure how Cas would react to that unpleasant feeling when he eventually woke up.

Still…Dean didn’t want to alarm Cas by touching him, so he just grabbed his pillow and shifted it forward, carefully picking up Cas’s head so that he could set it down properly. It was the best he could do, and Dean observed Cas’s sleeping form for a moment, an amused smile on his lips.

“Poor bastard,” he said to himself as he turned to the closet and rummaged for his pajamas and bathrobe. With one last glance at the unconscious former angel, Dean headed into the bathroom to quickly change his bandages before hitting the couch for his own shut-eye. 


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Dean yawned as he met Sam at the table. He took a seat in his pajamas and bathrobe,a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. His little brother was munching on some cereal as he flipped through a book and didn’t look up until Dean spoke.

“Find anything?”

Sam shook his head. “No, nothing. Well, nothing useful anyways. Some of these texts mention the trials, but don’t go into any details.”

“Helpful,” Dean said, and Sam scoffed in agreement. Dean took a sip of coffee and set it down on the table. Sam just chewed his lip thoughtfully.

“So…how’s Cas doing?” he asked.

Dean shrugged. “Still sleeping.” He knew from having checked every hour or so, in case Cas needed anything. Man, old habits died hard with him.

“You’re cruel, making him drink like that.”

“Nah. Come on, he wanted to feel better, and what could be a better distraction?” At Sam’s bitch face, Dean continued, “It worked, didn’t it? He’s not moping anymore, right?”

“Because he’s  _unconscious_.”

“It’s how I deal with it,” Dean said, giving a half-shrug.

“How you  _used_  to deal with it,” Sam pointed out. “Now you drink coffee. In a mug. While wearing a bathrobe. Man, I haven’t seen you drink that much booze since…well…for a while now.”

“Really?” Dean said, oddly embarrassed. “Oh, well…I needed to make Cas feel better and I couldn’t let him drink that much by himself.”

“Mmhm,” Sam said, a strange quality to his voice that made Dean frown.

“What?”

“Nothing. So, how are  _you_  feeling, by the way? We were supposed to change your bandages but I totally forgot.”

“Oh that? It’s only a scratch,” Dean said, waving it off, leaving out the part where he had bled through onto his blankets and needed to wash them…once Cas was done sleeping on them. Or how he had accidentally ripped some of the healing tissue with the gauze, making the cut sting and bleed like a bitch. At least he had tied the bandage better than its first hasty application. He felt snug underneath the bathrobe, and it didn’t pang as much as it did before.

Sam nodded slowly, a grin spreading onto his face. “Did you just make a Monty Python reference?”

“Sure, why not? Those guys are hilarious.”

Sam blew out an amused breath. “You’re in a good mood.”

Dean just took another swig of coffee and leaned back into the chair. Sam stopped eating and let his spoon clank against the bowl. He stared at the floor, working his jaw.

Dean frowned. “Sam? What’s wrong?”

Sam avoided Dean’s gaze and continued to fiddle with his spoon. “Well…I was thinking. I mean…we’re not doing anything today, right? So maybe we could…I dunno…open up one of the other rooms and clean it up for Cas?” At Cas’s name, Sam finally looked up at him and Dean had the unnerving sensation that Sam was testing him.

“Uh…what?”

“You know. So Cas can have his own room.”

Dean’s mouth hung open. “Oh. Right. Yeah,” was all he managed, as his mind was bombarded by jumbled thoughts.

Yes, Cas should have his own room. It was only logical. The bunker was full of spare rooms. It was silly for him to share with Dean when he obviously didn’t have to. Why hadn’t he thought of that in the first place? Stupid, stupid!

But…then there was that part of him that he didn’t like to think about. The part that had been secretly thrilled when Cas first planted himself in Dean’s bedroom chair and didn’t leave. The part that was jittery and happy that Cas was even  _there_. The part that he could never mention, ever, because he wasn’t…he wasn’t…

“I’m not…” Dean blurted out before savagely biting off the word, swallowing hard as he tried not to notice Sam’s pitying expression. “I mean…”

“Dean, it was just…a suggestion,” Sam said quickly. “Maybe you can ask Cas and see what he thinks?”

Dean glared at his mug, feeling exposed and wishing the liquid inside were alcohol so he could avoid the awkward silence that fell between them. It was finally Sam who broke the quiet.

“Just so you know. I don’t care. Either way. I mean, really it’s—”

“No, no, you’re right,” Dean interrupted. “Cas should have his own room. That makes sense. This place is huge.” Dean tried not to reveal how panicked he felt, how his whole body was tense and he just wanted to fly from the room, but he could feel Sam’s eyes on him and knew his brother saw through it all.

“Dean,” Sam said seriously. “Really. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ll just talk to Cas once he’s up and we’ll figure it out. Sounds good.”

“Talk to me about what?”

The brothers turned to see Cas bracing himself against the wall, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, hey Cas,” Dean said, hating the hysterical edge to his voice, especially when Cas frowned and looked at him.

“Dean. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Sam was just…uh…mentioning we should get you a room. Your own room. Here. If you like it enough to stay…because you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I mean…you can do whatever you want…” Dean trailed off when he realized he was rambling.

Cas blinked and cocked his head, his eyes wide. “Are you…kicking me out?”

“No! I mean, no,” Dean said with a frantic chuckle. “The opposite. Do you want your own room?”

“I thought I had a room already?”

Dean sucked in a breath and Sam uncomfortably shuffled his book and cereal bowl.

“Umm…maybe I should go?” he said hopefully, standing up. Dean shot him a pleading look as Cas gazed back and forth at the both of them.

“Where are you going, Sam? I don’t understand.”

“I’m just…gonna let you two figure it out,” Sam said with a flustered grin as he high-tailed it out of there. They heard him deposit his cereal bowl in the sink before the sound of his footsteps receded down the hall, probably to his favorite reading spot – a comfortable armchair in the living room, right up against the window.

Dean cursed his heart for beating so fast. There was no reason to pump adrenaline, but here he was in panic mode. Would he ever be able to relax, especially now that Sam…well…kind of maybe possibly  _knew_  about that part of Dean he had tried to squish into a tiny box?

“Damnit,” Dean sighed as he observed Cas, who was still staring off in the direction Sam had gone. There was an odd, thoughtful look on his face, and when he turned to face Dean, Dean saw that the former angel no longer appeared so confused. “What’s up, Cas?”

“The ceiling.”

Dean felt a grin tugging on his lips. “Which lowly human told you that joke?”

Cas shrugged. “I heard it somewhere.” His gaze roved around the room for a while before finally settling on Dean. “You were bleeding. I saw the blankets.”

“Oh. Well, I’m fine now,” Dean said quickly, hating when Cas’s face grew shadowed. “Come on, Cas, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make that face.”

“What face? It’s my vessel’s face… _my_  face. I can’t change it.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean! I thought you were still hungover?”

“I am. And I can safely say I never want to do that again. I’ve never felt so awful.”

Dean scoffed as he threw out his arms. “Welcome to being human. And hey, it worked didn’t it? Kept your mind out of bad places.”

Cas frowned in thought. “I suppose so.”

“Hey, come on, you can sit you know. No zapping out suddenly.” He gestured to the chair opposite him. Cas nodded slowly and obliged with a slump in his shoulders. Dean’s eyes narrowed worriedly. “Cas, are you alright?”

“I do thank you for last night, Dean. It was a good distraction. And I’m glad you also enjoyed it. But I am far from ‘alright’.” This last word he said in air quotes, and Dean smiled faintly for a moment. Cas sighed and continued, “It’s just…too much. Too much lost.”

“But you’ve gained a home. A proper one, with a kitchen even,” Dean said. “And…you could have your own room if you wanted.” Dean carefully avoided Cas’s piercing gaze. There was a long drawn-out silence before Cas spoke again.

“I guess you’re right. I do have a home. And I already have a room. I was looking at it this morning. The picture of your mother…is very nice.”

Dean had a hard time breathing, for more reasons than one. “Thanks. And um…feel free to decorate, if you want. Furniture, pictures…whatever.”

“I’m not sure where to get those things.”

“Well…maybe we can go to a store or something. You gotta learn to be human somehow. Ha, we could start with laundry. You know we actually got our own machines? They’re ancient but they work pretty okay.”

And as Dean spent the rest of the day wandering around the bunker with Cas, rambling on about anything and everything, he couldn’t help but feel…happy. Cas would be staying with them for a long time. He would be staying and living and making a _mark_  here in their home.  _Their_  home. 

Where they shared  _their_  room.


End file.
